Forest of Shadows Page 15

  “Is everyone okay?” Anna asked.

  Kristoff winced slightly, but said, more or less cheerfully, “Yep!”

  “Yes,” Elsa said. “I hope Sorenson is okay.”

  Anna hoped so, too, but she didn’t want her sister to worry. “I’m sure he’s fine,” Anna said, mustering as much enthusiasm as she could. “That scientist has more tricks up his sleeves than appointments in your schedule.” She stood up slowly. “And everyone will be okay once we have the sword to break the Nattmara’s curse.” Careful to keep her balance, she rose to her tiptoes and examined a glowworm. “Wow,” she breathed out. Each glowworm looked like a beaded necklace and hung like an icicle, beautiful and perfect.

  There was the sound of swirling water. Anna looked over to see that Elsa had clambered out of the mine cart and stepped into the lake. It was shallow, only coming up to her sister’s waist. She didn’t bother to lift her cloak out of the water, but instead let it float up around her, so that it almost looked like she’d grown a twinkling mermaid’s fin. Now mermaids were something Anna wished were real. And maybe, just maybe, they were. Elsa waded to the rocky banks.

  “Where are you going?” Anna asked.

  Elsa stopped to look up at the steep track they had careened down only moments before. “I can’t hear anything,” Elsa whispered, as though they were little girls again playing hide-and-find in the chapel and waiting for their parents to discover them.

  “That’s good, right?” Kristoff’s voice was hushed. “The Nattmara couldn’t have followed us. We were going impossibly fast, and there were too many tracks for it to know which ones we chose.”

  “Look up,” Elsa said grimly.

  Anna followed her sister’s gaze. In the glowworms’ light, she could make out a dozen different passages above them, each one leading to somewhere. To many somewheres. Anna tensed. They had lost the Nattmara. They had lost Sorenson.

  And now they were lost, too.

  ANNA, ELSA, AND KRISTOFF couldn’t stay in the cave of crystal-clear water and glowworm light forever.

  Because now, even the quiet was dangerous.

  It had been nearly twenty-four hours since Anna had last slept, and judging from the dark bags under Elsa’s eyes, it had even been even longer for her. But it was Kristoff who was suffering from exhaustion the most. Looking for his troll family, he’d already done a hard day’s ride before arriving back at the castle, only to flee. He had been awake for too long. He needed sleep. They all did.

  But if they slept, it might make it easier for the Nattmara to track them—and Anna knew it wouldn’t give up. That was the nature of a nightmare—one second, they were forgotten, and the next, they exploded into sharp memory. Anna, Elsa, and Kristoff had to keep moving through the mines. They had to keep their feet shuffling forward, their eyes open. If one of them slept, it could be the end of them all. They had so many people to save.

  And so, after gathering strands of glowworms to hang around their necks and wrists, they decided on a tunnel—not because it was familiar, but because it seemed to go more up than the others. Using the skills he’d learned on the mountain, Kristoff had been able to help them all scale the wall with his rope to reach the highest passageway.

  As they trudged forward, Anna tried to think about energizing things: sunrises, sledding, playing with the children in town, Olaf. But instead of making her feel excited and awake, they only made her feel sad and even more tired. She wondered if she would ever feel awake again. Kristoff stumbled beside her. Instead of catching himself as he normally would, he dropped to his knees and sank back onto his heels.

  Anna stooped beside him and rested a hand on his back. “Are you okay, Kristoff? You have to get up!” She nudged him.

  Kristoff mumbled in reply and laid his head on the ground. “This rock is so soft.”

  Anna pulled on his arm, but instead of yanking him to his feet, she only succeeded in making herself more tired, and she, too, sank to the ground.

  Kristoff was right. The rock was soft and still and it wanted her to lay her head down on it. It was warm, and from the depths of her sleep-addled mind, Anna remembered a lesson Gerda had taught her, about how the earth was a crust of dirt floating on top of hot magma, and that sometimes, little pockets of heat would spring warm water from the rocks underneath. Even though these carved tunnels within the mines had never seen the sun, they felt like a touch of summer—of lying on rocky beaches kissed by the sun. All Anna wanted to do was to stretch out her tired muscles and sleep there. Anna! From a long way away, she heard someone calling her name. Anna, get up!

  “Just a few more minutes,” Anna mumbled.

  A slap of cold air hit her. Anna jolted upright. “Hey!” She wiped away what seemed to be the remnants of a snowball from her cheek.

  “What was that for?” Kristoff protested, snow also flecking his face.

  “I’m saving your lives,” Elsa said. She conjured another snowball, which she juggled. “On your feet, or it’s more ice in your face. We have a deal?”

  “Blargh!” Kristoff sputtered. “Just let us sleep!”

  “Sorry, but I can’t do that.” Elsa shook head. “Anna! Oh, for goodness’ sake.”

  Anna felt another slap of cold snow and jerked her head up. “Sorry, sorry,” she mumbled, her tongue feeling too thick for her mouth. Snow glistened at Elsa’s fingertips, and something niggled at Anna’s mind. It was something important. It had something to do with Elsa and her magic. But what was it?

  As Elsa wound her arm, ready to pitch another snowball at either one of them, Anna remembered. She shot up tall and nearly jumped.

  “Elsa, stop!”

  Her sister dropped her snowball to the ground, where it landed with a small puff. “You promise to stay awake now? Because there’s more snow where that came from.”

  But Anna was no longer sleepy. Far from it. “You can’t keep using your magic,” she said. “On the observation deck, I noticed that every time you did, the Nattmara grew.”

  “Oh.” Elsa folded her arms across her chest. “Great.”

  Anna rooted around in Kristoff’s pack and pulled out the book, flipping open its pages to confirm her theory. But they were soaked through from the lake, the ink indecipherable. She sighed.

  SNORFFF!

  The sisters looked down to see Kristoff’s eyes had closed again, a strangled snore escaping from him as his head drifted toward his chest.

  “What are we going to do about him?” Elsa asked.

  “Umm.” Anna cast about for an idea—any idea. Usually, they came sharp and sure, but lack of sleep was making her feel fuzzy. All she could really focus on were their shadows thrown by the glowworms onto the cave wall opposite them. Shadows. Shadows similar to the famous shadow puppets of Zaria. She’d read how the puppeteers were often as famous as singers, and could fill whole theaters with their performances. If they could ever defeat the Nattmara and make everything right again, maybe she would invite some of the puppeteers to come give a performance in Arendelle. Everyone had liked it so much last year when Kristoff had performed his musical….

  “That’s it!” Anna shouted. That’s it, it, it. Her words echoed down the rocky corridor. Crouching down to be at the same level as Kristoff’s fluttering eyelashes, she began to sing: “‘Goblin toes are ugly, and Hulder tails are sweet—but you would never catch me, sweep one off his’…paw!”

  It was a silly song that Kristoff had made up for the last spring festival. The children in the village had loved it, and had performed it for the kingdom under Kristoff’s encouraging eye. When Anna had first met the mountain man, he’d been snow-crusted and only grunted a few words to her. She never would have thought that underneath the rough exterior, and a dirt patch or two, his real language was song.

  Kristoff had a gift for melody, and though he didn’t mind the odd soup stain on his shirt and didn’t care about the difference between a salad fork and a dessert fork, he was sensitive about song lyrics. Particularly to songs he had written.<
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  “Huh?” Kristoff’s eyes flew open. “It’s supposed to be ‘sweep one off his feet!’”

  Eyes sparkling, Elsa sang the next verse. “‘Goblins like to eat a lot, and Hulder like to sing—but you will never find one with a feathered’…nose!”

  “No!” Kristoff surged to his feet. “That doesn’t rhyme! And what does a feathered nose even mean?”

  “Now we got him,” Anna whispered to her sister, and she grabbed his hand. “Come on, Kristoff, sing it for us?”

  And Kristoff—poor, tired, sorrowful Kristoff—sang.

  Together, the three of them moved forward through the darkness, their voices echoing so that they sounded like an entire choir rather than just three fatigued friends hoping to survive, hoping to save the kingdom that Anna loved more than anything. She gave herself over to the sound, letting it sweep her along.

  They sang about the Huldrefólk. They sang about Aren and his gallant sword. And then they sang a silly ballad about a goose who fell in love with a duck.

  As they reached the end of the song, Anna thought about how beautiful Elsa’s voice sounded. She hadn’t known her sister could hit quite such high notes, or even sing harmonies. Anna stopped singing, wanting to listen closer. And that’s when she realized that Kristoff had stopped singing…and so had Elsa.

  In fact, all three of them had fallen silent, and yet the song continued. It climbed around them, higher and higher.

  It was as though the rocks themselves were singing. But that couldn’t be—could it?

  Elsa pointed down a passage to their left. “It’s coming from there.”

  Anna turned toward it.

  “Hold on!” Elsa grabbed her. “What makes you think we’re going that way?”

  “Why wouldn’t we?” Anna said. “We’re lost, and we need help. Besides, something so beautiful can’t possibly be dangerous!”

  Elsa stared at her. “Did you learn nothing from your engagement with Prince—”

  “Shh,” Kristoff interrupted. “The singing’s stopped.”

  And so it had.

  Anna whirled on Elsa. “We missed out on someone who could have helped us!”

  “Or maybe we missed out on whatever could have eaten us,” Elsa said.

  Kristoff gulped. “Or maybe they’re right behind you.”

  “Very funny, Kristoff,” Anna told him.

  “No,” he protested. “I’m…serious. Look.”

  While Anna had been talking with Elsa, they had walked into a new portion of the mines.

  Unlike the other passageways, this one had never seen the tip of a pickax. Because all around were crystals—and not just any crystals. Each one was taller than Kristoff and as wide as a tree trunk. They jutted from the walls and the ceiling, angled every which way to form a forest of sparkling rock. Each crystal was a shifting white, as though when the crystals had formed, they’d been filled with smoke.

  But it wasn’t the crystals’ unusual size or color that made Anna gasp or caused Elsa to grip her so hard that Anna could feel Elsa’s fingernails digging into her shoulder. Sitting astride a crystal as large as a pony was a little child.

  At least, Anna thought it might be a child, as the figure was definitely child-sized, about as big as a three-year-old human. In the dim light of the glowworm bracelet she’d put on, Anna could just make out the gleam of an eye, and soft-looking gray leggings that glimmered slightly as the child kicked out their legs.

  The child began to sing again, though the melody had no words. Just clear, round notes.

  With a gasp, Anna began to run toward the child, stubbing her toes and just missing occasional low-hanging rocks. But she didn’t care. All that mattered was that there was a child under the mountain who had been left alone. And Anna never wanted anyone to feel alone or left out—not ever. Not if she could help it.

  Worry pulsed through her, followed by guilt. She hadn’t even heard of a child missing from the village. She knew she’d been distracted with Elsa’s impending grand tour, but she couldn’t have been so busy as to not have heard about a missing child. She wondered how long the child had been down there, where the guardians were, or—she realized with a lurch—maybe the question should be, what had happened to them? Did the Nattmara get them?

  But before she could get more than a few feet from the child, she felt someone tug on the back of her cloak, yanking her.

  “Anna,” Elsa whispered, voice as low as could be, “do you see the ears?”

  Anna squinted, trying to see what Elsa saw. At first, she couldn’t, as the child’s curls bumped over where she expected the ears to be, except…

  Anna squinted so hard now that she could see her own eyelashes.

  And then, she saw them: the child’s ears rose to slender points, like the tips of a dragonfly’s wings.

  Suddenly, Anna remembered a bedtime story from a long, long time ago, back when she and Elsa had shared a room. They are tall and strong, with sharp ears. And they’re sensitive. Which is why, little Elsa, Mother had said with a tug on the hem of Elsa’s pajama bottoms, if you ever see one, you must not mention their tail! It’s rude.

  And if you do—a young Anna had popped up from behind her pillow fort, making a scary face and shaping her hands into claws—they might eat you!

  Elsa had burst into giggles, which had only made Anna wrinkle her face more and add an extra growl.

  All right, enough, Mother had said, scooping Anna up in one arm to plop her beside Elsa before she sat next to them on the bed. Cuddle close. Scooch in.

  Anna had let her face fall back to normal, but she’d kept her fingers curled into claws as she cozied up next to her mother and sister and asked, Momma, what do their tails look like?

  No one knows, Mother had said, and fixed a ribbon in Anna’s ponytail. They keep them hidden under skirts or keep their backs to the wall at all times.

  But I wanna knoooow, Anna had whined, and her mother had kissed the top of her head and laughed.

  Everyone is entitled to their secrets, she’d said. Especially the hidden people.

  The hidden people.

  Or, as the Arendellians called them…

  “Huldrefólk,” Anna breathed. And as she spoke the name aloud, Oaken’s words came back to her, sharp as a stalactite.

  Beware the Huldrefólk.

  THE CHILD’S—Hulder’s—melody flew off on invisible wings and faded again into silence.

  Anna burst into applause; she couldn’t help it. After all, the little Hulder didn’t seem dangerous.

  “That was incredible!” she exclaimed. “What’s your name?”

  For a moment, the Hulder seemed to stare at Anna in the glow-light, luminescent eyes boring into hers, and then the Hulder tumbled backward off the crystal.

  “No!” Anna said as she rushed behind the crystal to check on the child, hoping the tiny Hulder hadn’t hurt themselves.

  But as she rounded the tree-trunk-sized crystal, she saw that the Hulder was no longer behind it. The child had disappeared, except for the sound of footsteps pattering down the dark passage up ahead. Without a second thought, Anna took off.

  “Anna!” Elsa called from behind. “Wait! Slow down! You’re going too fast!”

  “Anna!” Kristoff shouted. Their warnings echoed off the rocks around them, but Anna disagreed with them both: she was going too slow.

  The Hulder was quick—Anna wasn’t sure if it was footsteps she was following now, or just the quiet drip of stalactites in the distance. Still, they had come to look for the Huldrefólk, the only ones who might be able to help them find the Revolute Blade, the only ones of myth who might be able to save them all from Anna’s terrible mistake. And so Anna ran on, only just missing the occasional low-hanging rocks. Suddenly, the Hulder screeched. It sounded frightened, and Anna hoped the Hulder wasn’t in trouble.

  “Hang on!” Anna shouted. She ran faster and faster, and then her foot caught—on a rock, a divot, or a root, it was too dark to tell—and she toppled to the ground, he
r hands out to cushion her fall.

  Pain cracked through Anna’s ribs as she slammed into the solid rock. She was going to have one giant bruise in an hour. Everything hurt. Everything but her right arm, which she’d flung out far in front of herself to try to break her fall. And as Anna looked at the glowworm bracelet dangling from her wrist, she saw why: her right arm had not hit any rock at all. All that hand had hit was thin air. Anna was glad she was already lying on the ground, because she thought she might faint if she were still standing. She’d followed the Hulder—and had almost run off a cliff and into an abyss.

  She could still hear the Hulder’s cry. Tuva’s warning from the trading post came back to her. They’re tricky. Sometimes, they help. Other times, they lure humans off the safest paths. And maybe, Anna thought, lure them into an abyss. There was always a chance that the Hulder child had done this on purpose, had perhaps meant to distract Anna and Elsa and Kristoff away from the Huldrefólk’s home.

  But even as these dark thoughts gathered into a cloud, Anna scooted forward on her belly, toward the sound of the Hulder’s cry. It didn’t matter what the Hulder’s intentions had been—but it did matter that the Hulder was stuck and scared. Once she wiggled to the edge, Anna leaned her chin out and peered down. The Hulder had tumbled over the edge, but by some luck or miracle, the child had caught themselves on a small ledge five feet down. It would be easy for Kristoff to lean over and reach the Hulder, but even as Anna watched, the rocky ledge was crumbling away under the child’s weight.

  “Elsa! Kristoff! Help!” Anna shouted as she inched forward even more, letting herself dangle over the edge, her hand outstretched. “Grab my hand!” she called down.

  The Hulder raised a hand, but Anna was still too far away. She had to get closer. Wiggling forward, Anna lowered herself down inch by fraction of an inch. Just a little bit farther now…She strained her fingers forward, willing them to lengthen—and that’s when she felt the crumbling of the earth beneath her own weight. What was once solid ground turned to gravel, and Anna skidded forward, headfirst into the dark abyss. She screamed.